


Chance of Showers

by windfallswest



Series: It Never Rains [2]
Category: Marvel, X-Men: Evolution
Genre: Locker Room, M/M, Masturbation, Shower Sex, Voyeurism, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windfallswest/pseuds/windfallswest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance of Showers

Scott only saw Kurt at breakfast the next morning, nose buried uncharacteristically in a textbook; he'd been complaining about trig all week. At least with the shades no one could see him staring while he pushed his cereal around in his bowl.

"Scott?"

"Hm?"

Jean gave him a look like maybe she'd had to repeat it a few times. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

She didn't seem convinced, but thankfully she was too distracted to pin him down. "Great. Now come on, I have to be at school early."

Standing up, Scott almost spilled his cereal all over himself. Jean must have really been in a hurry because she caught it before it hit him instead of laughing like the evil, evil person she was.

"You're getting pretty good at that," Scott said, watching as the bowl righted itself and his cheerios and milk poured themselves back in with a little flourish.

"Thanks." Jean took the bowl and shoved it at his stomach. "Now get moving!"

With that, she turned on her heel and hurried out.

"Yes, ma'am," Scott said.

The ride to school was short, but long enough for Jean to start looking at him sideways again. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She was too polite to do more than ask, but as long as they'd known each other, she hardly needed to. Scott tried not to squirm. He should be able to tell her, of all people. It was all just so confusing, and it had happened so fast, bam, out of nowhere, and then Kurt had just bamfed him up to his room and left him sitting bare-ass naked on the floor.

And it wasn't like Jean would have any reason to be upset. She was dating Duncan. Who was a jerk, but that wasn't the point. The point was…Scott didn't know what the point was. He was no good at this feelings stuff.

They pulled into the parking lot, and Scott was just opening his mouth to speak. But Jean jumped out of the Cobra almost before it stopped. "Look, I really have to run, but I'll get it out of you after class, Summers."

Gulp.

School lasted _forever_ that day. Normally, Scott enjoyed school, or at least the learning parts; but today he found himself watching the clock, or thinking about last night. Remembering the way Kurt had touched him, how he'd felt, finally being able to— Scott jerked his attention back to the teacher. Dwelling on the sounds Kurt had made when he came would result in nothing but embarrassment in AP Physics. Lucky it was a double period today and he wouldn't have to stand up for a while. _Get it together, Summers._

Scott was doing pretty well—well, managing okay—okay, not a complete wreck—by the last bell. He put his head down and made a bee-line for the parking lot. Maybe when he got back to the Institute, Jean would corner him and squeeze it out of him.

He ran into Kurt first, before he ever made it to his car. Both of them stopped short at about twice the distance they normally kept.

"Scott!"

"Kurt!" And Scott abruptly found his mouth flapping open aimlessly as he turned into the same paralysed, tongue-tied mess he became whenever a girl tried to engage him in social interaction. Not a gender-barrier thing, then. It was just him. Good to know.

There was a long beat while Scott failed to say anything. Kurt waited with a series of complicated things happening on his face.

"Um, bye!" he said when Scott failed to come up with anything. Glancing around furtively for potential witnesses, Kurt disappeared with a flash and a puff of sulphurous smoke.

 _Way to go, Summers_ , Scott told himself as he hitched his backpack up higher on his shoulder and started trudging towards the parking lot again. _That went really well._

Jean was waiting for him in the Cobra when he finally got there. She took one look at him an said, "Feel like talking about it now, tough guy?"

Scott slung his bag in, then followed it more heavily. "I would rather die in a fire."

Jean rolled her eyes in long-suffering tolerance. "We've got two hours before our Danger Room session; swing by Chipotle and then we'll go up behind the old barn on the hill."

Scott groaned. Jean really did know him too well.

 

"Watch out!" Evan shouted.

Kurt nearly ran right into Kitty, dodging a barrage of spikes; instead, he fell through her. Brr.

"Yeah, pay attention," Kitty shot over her shoulder, barely breaking stride.

"Gott, that still freaks me out," Kurt muttered.

"More than interdimensional teleportation?"

"Focus, people!" Scott barked from across the room.

Kurt tensed and tried to ignore the hot flush of shame in his gut. He'd been an idiot to even hope anything more would come of last night. Rogue had seen Scott and Jean drive off after school; he must have been on the way to meet her when Kurt saw him.

It was mortifying. They'd almost been late for this training session. And Scott had been shooting him weird looks this whole time. There was a lot of subconscious will involved in 'porting, and Kurt was pretty sure the only reason he hadn't landed, say, in his room or outside, a mile from here, was that it would be even more embarrassing. Gott, how was he ever going to be able to sleep in that bed again?

"Nightcrawler, could you stay a minute?" Scott asked stiffly when they'd finally finished.

Kurt had been about to 'port out and hopefully not have to talk to anyone else, ever, or at least until tomorrow. Reluctantly, he turned back to Scott but made no move to get closer.

He intercepted a speaking look Jean threw at Scott; Scott grimaced. This was going to suck so hard.

Scott watched everyone else troop out towards the locker rooms, obviously avoiding even indirect eye-contact. Although Kurt successfully resisted the itch to jump up to a higher vantage on the equipment, he couldn't keep his tail from flicking back and forth. Scott looked just as nervous; Kurt schooled himself firmly against finding it in any way endearing.

The door closed behind Kitty, lagging behind in hopes of overhearing something. She was squinting back over her shoulder at Kurt in a way that made him think that, however this went, it wasn't going to stay just between him and Scott very much longer.

Scott glanced at him, then away. He cleared his throat. "Um. I'm not very good at this stuff."

"I don't have a lot a practice either," Kurt said warily.

"Give me a fight and I'm fine. " Scott was starting to pace now; the close fit of his uniform was just twisting the knife. "It's so stupid! I can handle all this violence and danger and being responsible for everyone's safety, but I get tongue-tied whenever I try to talk about…"

Mister Scott I've-got-it-together Summers literally tearing his hair out in frustration should have been funny, but it wasn't. It was painful to watch.

"Come on, Scott, you're the bravest guy I know."

A huff of something that might have been laughter escaped Scott's lips. "That doesn't make this any easier."

When the line of his pacing brought him back around again, Kurt reached out and put a hand on his arm, stopping him. "What are you trying to say?"

"Jean—"

Of course. _Stupid, stupid._ "I get it, all right?" Kurt couldn't keep all of the bitterness out of his voice.

Scott exhaled a sharp breath of exasperation. "Will you listen? I know what everybody thinks. You're my best friend, but I've got a crush on Jean, isn't that how it goes? Well, maybe everyone's got it backwards."

"I'm your best friend?" Kurt repeated, unable to help himself.

Scott was looking at him like he was stupid or something now, and no, wait, why was he touching Kurt like this? "No, doofus. I've got a crush on you."

Kurt just stared at him blankly. Scott, both hands now on Kurt's shoulders, leaned in and kissed him. Kurt felt his jaw drop open, and before he could say anything Scott's tongue was diving into his mouth, its message pretty unmistakeable.

After a stretched interval where nobody said anything at all, Scott pulled back. They were both panting.

"Gott," Kurt said. "I think you're selling yourself short when you say you're not very good at this."

Scott's laugh was a little more strained than his rare usual, but the muscle-locking tension went out of him with it. _He was really afraid I wouldn't want him_ , Kurt marvelled.

"Doofus," he said and stretched up to catch another kiss.

Scott's lips were rough and bitten. They were the only real point of contact; both of them were still in uniform, gloved and covered, in Scott's case, from head to toe.

"You taste like Mexican," Kurt accused.

"Hungry?" Scott teased.

"Not right now."

"Mm," Scott hummed over his mouth.

Kurt wanted nothing more than to stay like that forever. But eventually they broke apart. Humping in cups wasn't very productive anyway.

It occurred to Kurt belatedly that the Danger Room was monitored. A prickling self-consciousness was enough to keep them separate until they got to the showers.

The locker room was empty now. Kurt could feel Scott's eyes on him as he stripped. He was miserably hard, and he jumped under the water before he could get carried away again.

Scott always stood under the last shower-head at the far end of the row. His shades and visor had their places on his cubby shelf, just outside the splash zone. Everything was arranged with Scott's usual compulsive precision. Easier to find with his eyes closed, probably.

They were scrunched tight shut when Scott lifted off the visor last of all, leaving himself naked. Kurt, already scrubbing himself a restrained couple places down, caught a teasing flash of hard cock as Scott turned to face the corner.

Kurt couldn't help but watch the water, running where his hands itched to. Scott had a wonderful ass, and while his hands and feet still looked too big for his body, he'd been shooting up like a weed ever since Kurt had met him. He was tall and lean, in a gawky sort of way, and if he ever topped out he was probably going to start putting on muscle.

Scott started soaping up a wash cloth, unconscious of Kurt staring at the way the muscles in his back shifted. When had his shoulders gotten so broad? Kurt had an undignified impulse to cling to them like a monkey.

It occurred belatedly to Kurt that maybe he should have set the shower to cold. His situation was not becoming less pronounced, boner-wise.

Scott was moving along faster. Well, he didn't have to deal with this kind of distraction, did he? The washcloth dipped lower, down where Kurt couldn't see.

Scott threw his head back, mouth gaping in an almost tortured expression. Kurt heard himself make a strangled sound, hand wrapping around his cock of its own volition.

Scott's breath caught, then continued in heavy, rasping pants. His shoulders flexed as he worked himself with both hands.

Kurt jerked himself hard and fast, unable to stop the high edges of his moans from escaping his lips. He saw Scott shudder and reach out to brace an arm against the wet tiled wall.

The moment stretched, building to the snapping point. There was a strange kind of intimacy in watching Scott like this when Scott couldn't see him, with Scott reacting to his voice like a touch.

Scott made a punched sound that was almost lost in the hard spray from the showers. Kurt knew he was coming when he stopped moving.

He gave his own slick flesh one stroke, two, and he was spurting. The come washed away as soon as it landed, but the aftershocks weren't so easily set aside. Kurt felt most like a rung bell, not unlike being caught too near the centre of an explosion. Ten feet away, Scott took his weight on his elbows, burying his face in the crook of his arm.

Kurt turned off the water. He had just shaken himself out and was trying to decide whether to go for Scott or a towel when a draught of cool air made his damp fur start to prickle.

"—o, Bobby, wait!" Jean's voice came from the hall.

"C'mon, chill out," Bobby brushed her off. "It's not like it's the _girls'_ locker room. Hey, Scott, Kurt, you guys coming up for dinner or what?"

Scott had stiffened and scrambled upright as soon as Bobby opened the door, nearly falling in his haste to compose himself.

Kurt shot Bobby an annoyed look and snatched up a towel. "Ja, ja, just keep your—" he choked, "—pants on, ice-cube. The fearless leader and I will be up in a minute."

Scott had fumbled his sunglasses on during this exchange. They matched the scarlet flush of his skin…all over. It could have just been the hot water.

Kurt hissed and tucked his towel around his waist, conscious of Bobby looking at them strangely. "Okay, whatever. They told me to tell you."

"Thanks, Bobby," Scott managed.

He yanked his pants up but dropped his belt. The sound of the buckle falling was loud in the close silence.

"You okay?" Kurt asked.

Scott waved a hand before scooping up his belt. "Fine. Jean was—um. Never mind."

Kurt felt his eyes widen. "She wasn't—"

If it was possible, Scott blushed even brighter. "No! No. She's calling me a— Doing this here isn't the smartest idea we've ever had."

Kurt felt his spine go stiff. "Sure. Of course."

Scott's look was direct, event through the shades. "Smart would be my room, later tonight." Some of the confidence went out of his posture. "If-if you wanted to, I mean."

Impulsively, Kurt leaned in and pressed a kiss to his stammering mouth. It was just a quick brush of lips, but it made Scott grin, and he felt a warm flutter of anticipation in his stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry about the title, guys. It was going to be something more dignified, but I was subverted by my worser nature.


End file.
